


Forbidden Instinct

by Ethereal_Soup



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Choking, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fear, Forced Orgasm, Gay Sex, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation in Shower, Men Crying, Muscles, Or is it just non con?, Ownership, Painful Sex, Penis Size, Post-Betrayal, Rough Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Slow Build, Trauma, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Soup/pseuds/Ethereal_Soup
Summary: Savage Opress and Feral set out for Lotho Minor in search of Darth Maul, but severed bonds and unsated lust lead to an aggressive display of sexual ownership and animalistic instincts.>>FERAL SURVIVES AU<<This is the introductory bit to a storyline that I'd like to continue! Basically: Savage, Maul, and Feral have lots of kink-based sex with lots of different people and in lots of different ways - BUT WITH COOL LITERARY DEVICES AND PLOT!
Relationships: Feral & Savage Opress
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Forbidden Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Slow build intro, but I'm really proud of it for how it establishes the power dynamics. 
> 
> If you intend to keep up with this series then I would suggest you don't skip to the nasty-nasty <3

The azure glow of a swirling hyperspace tunnel paints the inside of Savage’s ship with ghostly hues. The pilfered tanker moves with surprising haste toward Lotho Minor; the supposed den of Opress’s wayward sibling - whose face he could envision evermore clearly as their bodies closed the gap.

Auto-navigation engaged, the reborn Zabrak sits motionless in the pilot’s seat; one of two in the industrial cockpit. Its meager dimensions fail to comfort his monstrous frame. The sith’s trunk-sized legs drape off of either side.

Shadows dance along the rusted console and over Savage’s statuesque demeanor. A lifetime of mist and shadow renders this in-between place unsettling. The Nightbrother’s golden eyes squint from the oppressive light that spirals in and out of view. 

He fears for a moment that its ethereal radiance will tear away Mother Talzin’s blessing. More than the emerald witchcraft within his veins, Savage fears that the glittering void of space will expose the frightened man beneath layers of animalistic hunger and rage. 

His strength was at its zenith now, but more than he had ever experienced before his transformation, Savage felt powerless; helplessly governed by the cruel whims of forces far greater than him.

Home is nowhere on the blinking star charts before him. 

_ Nowhere. _

A galaxy of paths to be paved, and yet the path to Lotho Minor was the only one he could follow now. It felt like destiny … if there ever were such a force. 

A clawed hand lifts to pinch the bridge of Savage’s nose. Something within grasps the Zabrak’s rib cage; the physical instinct to weep for all that was lost. Its manifestation is both sudden and unwelcome. Something about who he was now would not allow him to break; much to his detriment. 

It buries the opening that would otherwise drain his ever-filling well of emotions. It forces him to be strong, not only for himself, but for—

“You should sleep,” a fragile voice pleads from behind.

— _ Feral. _

There is no response, and so silence reigns in the space between them. The low hum of light speed travel encircles the tanker’s metal hull; a reverberating lullaby. Savage lowers his hand to rest evenly with the other upon his armored lap. His eyes are tugged to the left with the impulse to turn and face his friend. 

He does not. 

Feral’s brows are tugged low with concern. The paranoia is transparent to the force-sensitive Opress. The smaller Zabrak’s optimism regarding Savage is fleeting, and the Sith could taste it in the air like sour wine.

The transformation had not been kind to their once-inseparable bond. As much as Feral hated himself for it, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was beginning to believe that the man he had grown to love was buried alive within the monster before him. 

The hulking Nightbrother remains seated, managing a few words in a colorless growl, “Sleep is .. unkind to me now.” 

The terrors. A recent symptom of Mother Talzin’s work. Whenever he shut his eyes to rest the wicked laughter of Nightsisters both past and present would tease him from the corners of his mind. They were faceless, and yet Savage knew them all by name. 

Feral digs his bandaged heels into the cold metal floor as he struggles for the words. Still dressed in his training wraps, the chill of space gnaws at his exposed arms and legs.

Savage finally pivots the pilot’s chair to face a now-shivering Feral, his lean arms tucked under his sides to garner some semblance of warmth.

Their departure from Dathomir was swift, and so Feral could only bring with him the strips of bloodied fabric on his back.

Recent transgressions echo through the still air as they gaze at one another.

Savage was compelled not once, but twice by the Nightsisters to murder his friend.

Twice, he somehow managed to refuse; a sliver of identity still anchored within him. 

Mother Talzin witnessed this and allowed Feral to depart — not out of benevolence, for it was not her nature, but because in that moment her grand vision for Savage evolved to include his counterpart. 

Regardless, the two were forbidden to return. 

Bound by divergence, they were cast out.

“Please say something, Savage.”

The larger Zabrak studies the other’s body; the thin lines that coalesce to form a person. 

A wave of recollection overtakes him. He remembers his hand wrapped around Feral’s throat. The feeling of his breath entering him and leaving him with shallow rasps — how he could break him with the slightest gesture.

Savage lusted for that feeling of power even now, but that power came at a steep price. Feral’s eyes did not gaze upon him as they once did on those bitter Dathomir nights. They did not tether to his as the two laid together beneath a veil of stars, their bodies and their hearts interlocked. 

That too was lost.

“You are afraid of Mother Talzin’s gift ... and of me,” Savage replies, his expression relentlessly blank. 

Feral’s eyes grow wide with attempted denial. The rebuttal leaps sloppily from his lips, “No, Savage I’m— I couldn’t—“

“The Force moves timidly around you, Feral. Do not deny your feelings.” There is a low chime on the guidance console. Savage rotates the pilot’s seat to address it, guided by the Force to remedy their path away from some manner of interference.

Feral lurches forward and plants himself behind the copilot’s seat on Savage’s right. He leans over it, attempting to catch the Sith’s peripheral, “You are still  _ you _ , Savage … despite what the Nightsisters have ripped out and changed.” 

The other Zabrak says nothing.

Feral’s gaze lingers over Savage for moments on end. This lack of communication between them was entirely foreign. Once, they wore their intentions openly and shared just as much. It’s why they took to each other so swiftly.

Honesty _. _

Now, Feral claws at the bestial thing before him for some remnant of the man he once knew. 

Eventually, Feral succumbs to their current reality; at least for tonight. His eyes dip to the floor and his tattooed torso begins to turn in a lowly departure. 

Savage suddenly speaks with his attention still dilated on the navigation panel, “If you wish to warm yourself there are bathing chambers at the back of this ship.” 

Feral slowly turns, his eyes poised upon Savage’s broad silhouette. Words fail him as he attempts not to overestimate.

The Sith keenly adjusts the ship’s power feed, “Or you may freeze. Your choice.” 

Feral scratches at his wrist, words slow and coy, “Will you come with me?” A pause defined by a hard swallow, “We can bathe together like we did before the trials.”

_ Silence _ . 

Feral fears for a moment that his brother would end him for such a suggestion, but such a reality does not come to pass. 

A low breath escapes from Savage’s chest; a resonant exhale of his true desires that were now lashing out for recognition. 

Foolishly, Feral presses further.

“You remember that night … don’t you, Savage?” he adds, a pleading tone in his words as he struggles for that single grain of reassurance. 

_ Savage did remember. _

That brief manifestation of their mutual affection was more than instinctual lust; it was a consummation of their lifelong brotherhood — forbidden, but truer than anything either of them had known prior. As they waded through the crimson marsh, naked and conjoined, their love became their gospel. 

That once-pure memory was tarnished by shadows now. All Savage can recall is the sex; the satisfaction of filling Feral with himself over and over again. The Sith sees his lover’s slim body pinned under his; wrists crossed behind and pressed into Feral’s lower back. 

_ He hears how fervently Feral begged for him.  _

Savage could have taken so much more from Feral that night.

Now, he wanted the selfish alternative; animalistic and violent. He wanted to use his new strength as a weapon of oppression; just as Mother Talzin had intended. 

Intrusive fantasies manifest within Savage’s mind; the sweet aroma of another man’s sweat. The sight of a slave in chains yet to be broken in. 

A sensation rushes to his groin and Savage feels himself slowly swell to a warm fullness. His cock presses uncomfortably into his armor … which was already too confined to house his soft length. 

_ Fuck. _

Savage wanted to tear himself from his vestments and claim his prize where it stood; shivering and afraid.

Nothing would satisfy him more than to  _ own _ Feral in this vulnerable moment, but that same merciful remnant calls out for him to heel. Moments longer and this unaddressed lust would evolve into ruthless action. 

Savage realizes then the severity of his desires. If he were to pursue Feral now there would be no stopping himself. The impulse would take control and he would act akin to the beast everyone believed him to be. 

“ _ Go,” _ Savage demands - a last-ditch effort to preserve their current physical and emotional distance … for both of their sakes.

Lacking the other’s force sensitivity, Feral sees not the inner battle raging in his brother’s mind. He fails to realize that this, like before, is mercy. 

The words sting only because Feral’s hope remains pure; fleeting, but radiant like this galaxy’s billion dying suns. 

He stifles the oncoming tears with a nod of faux understanding, turning away and walking back down the corridor from which he came. 

Savage feels it then.

The chill of space, and the warmth of unsated lust. 

// 

The stream of water is strong, but slow to warm. 

The ship’s bathing quarters are no larger than Feral’s hut back on Dathomir. The shower itself is large enough to bathe multiple crewmates at once. It’s crude by galactic standards, but for the marsh-dwelling Zabrak this modest tile room is otherworldly - so much so that it takes him numerous tries to get the device working.

With hisses of dull pain Feral slowly peels himself out of his bloodied rags; still speckled scarlet from the witch’s trials. The wounds over his slender frame have since healed; save a few lingering bruises on his neck from where Savage…

_ From where Savage... _

That moment still hurts to remember.

He steps into the shower, its stream still bitter cold, in an attempt to wash it from his mind. The pain of unreciprocated affection is replaced with the bite of frigid water. The memory of Savage’s strong hands choking the air from him is replaced with the shortness of breath only early-onset hypothermia can provide. 

It’s terrifying and thrilling at the same time, to be helpless. If Feral trusted Savage as he used to, perhaps he would ask to be made helpless again.

For Feral, being held was only tender, but being owned was the greatest form of validation. 

As the water slows to a warmth Feral manages to release the tension trapped in his muscles. He begins running his hands over his aching body. His nimble fingers trace every indent and crevice that define his toned torso. 

Feral truly was an example of the Zabrak’s beauty and charm; fair in both face and physique. What’s worse? He knew this well.

Whenever Feral bathed in communion with the Nightbrothers he would look to see if any of them saw what he saw in himself. 

The only eyes he ever caught staring were Savage’s; golden and keen. It wasn’t until they bathed alone together that Savage took him.

That memory makes Feral hard much quicker than he thought it would. 

He wraps a hand around his tattooed cock and begins stroking to an ideal fantasy. 

Savage’s tender embrace, his careful consideration for every square-inch of Feral’s writhing body, how he thrusted himself into the weaker Zabrak’s tight hole with a hunger that must have lasted a lifetime.

Feral lets out an unconscious moan shaped in the word ‘Savage.’ 

He remembers his ankles draped onto Savage’s shoulders as the larger Zabrak pounded him into a shallow submission, those golden eyes never leaving his own. 

The pain of taking him was delicious. He could trust him never to stray too far.

And that voice...how it purred both praise and demand into his ears.

_ “That’s it…” _

_ “Good boy…” _

_ “Take all of it…” _

He had never felt so owned, nor so held. 

Feral was getting close now. Weeks without touching himself had led to this; and he craved the feeling of satisfaction that would surely come when he no longer wanted Savage. 

He moans a second time, much louder than the little Nightbrother had intended. Perhaps it would have caught Savage’s attention from the cockpit…

_ were he not already in the shower room.  _

The hulking Zabrak stands concealed within the forming cloud of steam, only his massive silhouette visible. Savage only stands a short one or two feet from the oblivious Feral; who remains turned away as he continues toward his climax.

Unlike the protective eyes that once watched Feral bathe with curiosity and affection, Savage’s gaze is overridden with a rage only matched by jealous animals. 

What happens next is primal; driven by the uncaring whims of an apex predator. 

Savage seethes toward his lover and pushes him forward into the shower wall. 

“GAH!” Feral cries helplessly.

The golden Sith rips his brother’s right hand from his slicked cock and pins it behind Feral’s back; the other arm pressed onto the chamber wall.The distance between them is completely closed; the smaller Zabrak now forced into immobility between a barrier of cold tile and a wall of bulging muscles; 

The warmth of Savage on his naked back becomes tyrannical. Feral lets out an injured yelp as his limb is twisted further into an incorrect position, “SAVAGE...STOP!”

It’s the same painful rasp that he pleaded once before, only this time something was different. He wouldn’t be allowed to go. 

Somehow, some way, the fragment of mercy left within Savage had taken its leave. Whatever happened between the cockpit and the bathing chambers had turned him fully.

Only the monster remained, and now, the monster hungered. 

Opress’s hot breath billows over the top of Feral’s horned head through gritted teeth. The beast lowers his lips to his prey’s right ear, letting out words more akin to growls, “You...were not given permission.”

Feral’s mind scurries for a response. What did he mean? What had he done wrong? There was only fear; a terror that gripped him even more mercilessly than Savage did now. 

“Wh-what?” Feral manages through whimpers. 

The grip on his right wrist tightens until something inside begins to crack. Feral releases a scream as he begins to break under the onslaught. 

“YOU WERE NOT GIVEN PERMISSION!” Savage bellows over his brother’s cries. 

With nothing more than a rotation of his torso, the Sith flings Feral across the bathing chamber. The weaker Nightbrother lands on his stomach with a harsh  _ smack.  _ His upper-torso is rotated away from Savage, but his plump ass now faces his abuser. 

“I’m...sorry,” he begs with the left side of his face pressed into the wet floor. He attempts to push himself up with his right arm, but the searing pain in his wrist sends him tumbling back to the ground with another pathetic yelp.

“No. I don’t think you are...” Savage coos in a  _ deadly  _ bass. 

And then, Feral hears it. 

The undoing of a belt. 

The sliding of thick fabric over skin. 

“...not yet,” the beast warns. 

Piece by piece, articles of the Sith’s black clothing fall onto the shower floor until only Savage’s chiseled body remains. Bulging, tattooed pectorals heave up and down over a set of rippling abdominals; both of which glisten as the water takes to them. His vein-ridden arms flex and release with anticipation for what malice they are about to inflict.

_ What he had planned.  _

Before Feral can make a move he feels Savage’s bare knees sink into the back of his calves; pinning him into the ground and spreading his hairless legs at the same time. His arms are sprawled outward, failing to gain traction on the slick shower surface. 

The water droplets bombard Feral’s exposed back and run down his shapely ass without relent. He can hardly hear himself sobbing over the stream. 

Savage looms further over his slave and cups his large hands around Feral’s ass. After a moment of massaging his perfect cheeks, the brute’s thumbs dip into the crack to part them. 

A cold air brushes over the small Zabrak’s now-exposed hole. 

Unable to see Savage, Feral can only respond to what he hears. What he feels.

He  _ feels  _ Savage’s pointer finger teasing his entry with rough, invasive pokes. 

He  _ hears  _ … laughter. A satisfied, superior laughter. 

“Savage...this isn’t you,” Feral pleads between tears, “Please, let me go!”

“Mmm, yes,” the Sith purrs venomously, “I like it when you beg.” 

Without warning Savage’s thick pointer finger enters Feral. The pinned Nightbrother releases a moan of protest as his anal walls struggle to accommodate without lubcrication. 

Before Feral can beg again Savage shoves his middle finger in to match. 

Feral arches his defined back and lets out a painful cry. The word ‘stop’ rests on his tongue, but fails to pass over the threshold of his lips. Time and time again he tries to force that word through.  _ Stop _ . Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he fight for his own dignity?

Savage begins to spread his fingers in a scissoring motion to prepare Feral for whatever came next. The dominant Nightbrother licks his upper lip as he watches Feral’s hole burn red with irritation. He knew it was hurting him, and he savored every moment. 

Feral’s begging whines begin to mix with stimulated moans as Savage’s fingertips massage his sensitive prostate. The Sith hears this and forms a devious smirk. 

“Yes...you like that, don’t you?”

Feral is silent. Savage counters this disobedience by palming the submissive’s scalp and yanking his head upward, “DON’T YOU?” 

The smaller Nightbrother then catches a glimpse of them in the glass.

_ Fuck.  _ Savage was massive now. Far greater in size than his robes would let on. His tattooed body towers over Feral’s; holding him down like a boulder atop fabric. 

He could suddenly admit it to himself.  _ This  _ was what he wanted.

“Yes...Savage,” he practically whispers. 

Opress’s grip tightens on his horned head, threatening to crush it, “LOUDER!”

“Y-YES!”

Satisfied, Savage releases the Nightbrother and allows him to plummet back to the floor. With a dry tug the fingers exit Feral’s hole. The pain is …  _ intoxicating _ .

The Sith removes his knees from Feral’s calves and grabs him by his hips. With a careless gesture Savage flips his prey onto his back; the two now face to face. 

At that moment, what Feral sees in his mate’s eyes is both terrifying and arousing. The love is gone. Eyes of gold now stare with rabid hunger for nothing more than a piece of struggling meat. Feral sees his place in all of this: under him. 

Something else catches Feral’s glance. Throbbing between two powerful, tattooed thighs is a monstrous cock anchored by two hairless balls. Opress’s markings continue along the veiny shaft and end just before the Zabrak’s enormous head. 

The submissive’s mouth hangs slightly open with shock. This wasn’t the organ that bred him before. The transformation had changed this part of him too. 

Savage was much bigger now …  _ too big. _

When Feral’s gaze returns to Savage’s there’s a devilish grin on the Sith’s lips. He takes his manhood in his right hand and begins stroking it slowly. A bead of precum emerges from the slit and drips onto his slave’s leg. 

Feral begins to shake his head for a moment’s rest, but whatever Savage desires is already in motion. Standing on his knees, the hulking Zabrak straddle-walks up the prone Nightbrother’s torso; his low-hanging sack dragging over Feral’s tight abdominals. The warmth of it is both comforting and intimidating. 

Savage tightens his trunk-sized thighs on each side of Feral’s shoulders until he can no longer struggle; arms pressed into his ribs. All that the helpless Zabrak can see now is Savage’s gorgeous crotch staring down at him. A hard swallow ensues.

The Sith guides the wet tip of his rod to graze over Feral’s soft lips; sliding it back and forth over the closed entrance.

“Open,” Savage orders with a growl. 

“I...can’t…”

Opress closes his thighs around Feral’s shoulders until the air begins to leave his lungs.

Unable to beg for lack of breath, the Zabrak finally submits himself; his velvet lips parting to let all of Savage in. 

Without hesitation the Sith’s full erection begins to slide down the confines of Feral’s warm mouth. A  _ low, passionate  _ moan escapes from Savage’s lips. His furious eyes shut for only a moment to savor the moist walls tantalizing every part of his dick’s lower-half. The full girth of his member stretches Feral’s mouth into a large “O” to accommodate him; only barely capable of taking it.

Feral stares up at Savage with the eyes of a dubious servant; almost obedient to his master, but still in need of some breaking in. The bucking motion of Opress’s hips continues until his head reaches the back of his servant’s mouth. Feral releases a gagged moan to try and deter him from going further.

Then, a few more deep thrusts that feel as though they’re going through Feral’s skull. 

The airflow stops. Unfortunately, Savage continues. 

With vicious repetition the head of Savage’s cock begins to probe further and further down Feral’s unprepared throat. The sounds of wet, tortured gags fill the shower chamber. Savage opens his eyes and  _ stares  _ down at his victim. He watches Feral choke on him with the greatest satisfaction in his gaze. 

Feral’s eyes scream for mercy. Opress shakes his head slowly, leaning forward to intensify the oral abuse.

“Every. Inch,” the Sith demands, a hand wrapping around Feral’s throat, “I want to feel my cock through your neck.” 

_ Feral shudders.  _ He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could feel was the painful expansion of his throat as Savage took more and more of what he craved. Before long, the Sith’s hairless scrotum was resting atop his chin. Its soft warmth bounces up and down as the choking rod is pushed all the way in, and most of the way out; just enough to stop the breathing. 

The helpless plaything begins to thrash for release. He feels his lungs burn for the touch of air. His eyes grow red and tears begin to fall. Whether he was crying because of the merciless face-fucking or because of the situational horror, Feral would never know. 

Savage laughs as he watches this, “I want every second you have to spare.” His hand tightens around Feral’s throat and suddenly … they’re back in the Nightsisters’ cave. 

Almost at his climax, Opress decides how best to leave his brother’s throat - the only correct answer was gruesomely sore. With a powerful thrust he plants himself all the way down Feral’s neck; docking himself there as the smaller Zabrak begins to lose consciousness. 

Just as the thrashing begins to cease, Savage pulls himself all the way out; his enormous member now glistening with gagged-up saliva. 

Feral arches his back and inspires the most air he’s ever taken. It fills his lungs at a price, warranting a hacking cough that leaves him sobbing even harder. 

Savage rubs the Zabrak’s chin with his thumb as he recovers, “Good boy...”

Feral’s cries have evolved into resonant wails of grief now. He screams and struggles as Savage watches. The Sith’s pleased smirk descends into a furious scowl. 

The submissive’s mania is only halted by a ruthless slap to his face followed by the grabbing of his reddening cheeks. Feral is forced to look into Savage’s eyes as he speaks; words slow and doused with lust. 

“I’m going to take  _ everything  _ you denied me, Feral. Every second. Every inch…”

Feral stares, petrified.

“And when I’m done with you, all that you will know will be me. The feeling of my cock inside of you. The fullness that I know you crave.”

_ And he was right. _

Savage lets go of Feral’s face with a harsh push and stands; his heavy balls swinging like pendulums. Feral lays there, excess saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. The soreness is immense, so he cannot swallow it. Breath enters and leaves him in slow rasps.

But Savage wasn’t done.

Distracted by recovery, Feral failed to notice Savage circle back and plant himself between his slave’s legs. 

“No...Savage!”

With a silent heft, Feral’s bruised ankles are resting atop Savage’s broad shoulders; just as they did in the marsh. Savage reaches down and grabs hold of his throbbing member with the most potent instinct of all now overtaking him; the need to plant his seed. 

“Savage, PLEASE! I CAN’T--”

A hand lashes out to encircle Feral’s fragile throat. The grip is just enough to cut his words short, but not enough to threaten the Zabrak’s consciousness. Opress stares down at his prize with unmatched hunger. 

“I want you…” Savage positions his saliva-slicked head at Feral’s puckered entry, “...to watch me take your body...”

With a push, the Sith’s wet tip begins to dig its way in.

Feral begins to groan and thrash wildly as his body writhes to push Savage out. An excruciating fire ignites at the ever-gaping entry. 

“...so that no man will ever be able to touch you again.”

Opress releases Feral’s throat; as if preparing an instrument. 

With one powerful thrust Savage assaults his pet’s body with the entirety of his length. His hips buck into the other Zabrak’s ass with the satisfying resonance of flesh against itself. 

Feral’s scream echoes through the shower chamber, through the cabin halls, and down into the tanker’s deepest storage levels. His arms claw wildly at the floor as he tries to find something, anything to anchor himself to.

“Good boy…” Savage coos. 

He pulls himself from Feral’s hole only to immediately drive himself back in with an even more vicious thrust. Savage moans deeply as the tight walls hug his tattooed shaft. The beast satisfies himself with the unique sensation of Feral’s prostate rubbing against the head of his manhood; making circles with his cock. 

Savage lowers himself over Feral’s body and begins to form a merciless rhythm. 

Out. Savage moans.

In. Feral cries.

Out. Savage moans.

In. Feral cries.

Their faces are only inches apart as the Sith interlocks their bodies. There is no tenderness in the exchange. Nothing is given; only taken by force. Unable to resist, Savage wraps his hands around Feral’s throat one last time as he fucks him into total submission. 

The clapping of sweaty flesh intoxicates Opress until he feels himself grow close to climaxing. There was so much of him to give, and so much room within his mate. 

He locks his golden eyes onto Feral’s and fucks him faster, deeper, rougher. 

“You...” his breaths begin to grow shallow, “...belong to me now.”

Feral’s toes curl as his prostate is repeatedly slammed by Savage’s crown. Without either of them realizing it, the smaller Zabrak spends himself all over his chest. Webs of white cum connect the two as the Sith presses forward to his own goal. 

“Ah….AH!” Savage cries, head craned to the ceiling as an unimaginable pleasure overtakes his glistening body, “FUCK!” 

His thrusts grow slower, but remain deep in Feral’s quivering torso. The smaller Zabrak feels an overwhelming warmth fill his bowels as Savage cums inside of him. The orgasm is absolutely primal, releasing a load equal to weeks of abstinence. 

Savage tenses and releases as his balls drain of all their potent contents. His breaths are low and resonant as he recovers from the greatest feeling he’s ever had. 

Opress stays planted for a moment; allowing his own cum to warm the tip of his softening cock.

The Sith nearly falls backwards as he unsheathes his member from Feral’s stretched hole, but catches himself on his palms. He sits there as the smaller Zabrak’s entry leaks countless ounces of his pure-white seed. Only the shallow heaves of Feral’s body indicate that he’s still alive.

Minutes pass without a word. 

The heat slowly fades from Savage’s wild eyes.

Slowly, his soul fills to the brim with shame. 

**Author's Note:**

> This ship is iconic and I WILL be writing more for them.  
> I'd love your thoughts on situations, pairings, etc. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
